No Regrets

Thursday morning, three forty AM the alarm went off; I’d been awake for hours. My life was about to change, big time!

 

Flight 494 from Seattle to San Diego seemed much longer than the scheduled two hours and twenty minutes. No food. No drink. I sat by the window and stared at the clouds covering southern Washington and Oregon. By the time the clouds cleared around Shasta I no longer cared what was outside. My mind swirled with all I’d learned and knew about the Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy (VSG) procedure, while trying to fill the gaps of the unknown.

 

Outside of Alaska baggage claim we waited for the ‘big blue van’ and Alberto our driver. He was late. I finally called Joanne, my patient facilitator. She explained the delay and gave us a new pick-up time. As we waited in airport air conditioning my mind is again manufacturing all the what-ifs and possible negative scenarios. Not to worry. Alberto arrives exactly when promised and immediately puts me at ease. He is equal parts chauffer, tour guide, comedian and medical assistant. Don’t worry, doctor’s a little shaky, but he steadies himself with his other hand.

 

Alberto expertly guides us through the Mexican boarder crossing. Three pairs of patients and their companions and all the boarder guard wants to know is if the clothes in our bags are new or used. A chorus goes out, used! The guard is satisfied and we’re off.

 

The drive from the boarder to INT Hospital in Tijuana couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes. I expected some sort of check-in process. Instead, we were ushered to our individual rooms where we were instructed to get comfortable and relax. The room was small, clean and appeared well equipped by my untrained eye. There was an upholstered bench with storage under for Michelle to sleep on and a private bath. BeeBee from BeLiteWeight (BLW) joined us to complete paperwork and to layout the expectations. Doctors and staff would start pre-op testing – EEG, blood work – immediately. Was I nervous? A little I lied as bravely as I could.

 

A nurse came in and started a large bore IV in my left arm. I shouldn’t have looked. The needle was huge, but then it was going to be my sole source of liquids and meds for the duration. The surgeon and assisting surgeon came in to see me. Did I have any questions? Was I nervous? Just a little, again I lied. My vitals were checked again and again. The anesthesiologist came in to see me. She was very sweet and compassionate. Did I have any questions? Was I nervous?  Obviously I wasn’t fooling anyone. A nurse came in to give me a ‘little something’ to help me relax.

 

Almost immediately, my world starts to get a little fuzzy. I remember several staff coming into my room and Michelle kissing me. I’m rolling down the hall watching to lights overhead roll by, just like in the movies. Into the operating room and the anesthesiologist leans in and says something; I can’t remember what. I don’t remember anything after that.

 

When I wake up in recovery I’m in a lot of pain. The oxygen mask feels suffocating. Michelle says I was in recovery for an hour or so, it felt longer to me.

 

Back in my room; back with Michelle; meds moderating to pain to a hard ache, and they want me to get out of bed! I want to sleep. I want something to drink. I don’t fee like a stroll. Michelle is insistent and I stumble out into the hall where I join a slow parade up and down the corridor. Michelle said we looked like zombies; plodding along with ashen faces, using our IV stands like a rolling cane.

 

Finally allowed to sleep, this day is, at last, over.

 

Friday morning starts with someone taking my blood pressure, again. And then, after more than thirty hours of nothing by mouth, a nurse arrived with a cup of flaked ice. It was the coldest, wettest, most delicious flaked ice ever. Before I could savor the moment, Michelle was prodding me out of bed, time for more zombie laps. And so went to day. A nap, vitals, more laps. A nap, vitals, more laps.

 

The only break was late in the afternoon for the x-ray dye test. I had to drink a cup of the foulest tasting liquid ever, and then got to see the dye descend my esophagus and enter my new, shockingly small, stomach. There on the screen, even to my untrained eye, was a very small stomach pouch. Equally important to my untrained eye, I could see there were no leaks.   

 

The second night was much better than the first. In the morning, it was much of the same routine as the previous day, but this time with the anticipation that we would soon be heading home. We were schedule to depart at eleven AM, and meet Michelle’s sister Yvonne in San Diego before heading home, but that’s another story.